And O'er That Night the Snow Came Down
by Kavi Leighanna
Summary: *AU* He meets her by fluke during the three-week lead up to his friend's wedding. Callen/Kensi
1. Chapter 1

**Mistletoe**

He meets her by fluke.

His co-worker's getting married – he uses coworker, but Eric's very much more technical support – in a couple of weeks and has demanded that everyone present their faces at Nell's annual Christmas party. Callen figures out why the minute he steps through the door.

Nell's family is enormous. They're considerate though. They're all wearing ugly Christmas sweaters and antlers on heads. They're hard to miss.

So is she.

Honestly, he's not sure how he missed her. She's standing against a back wall, nursing what looks like cider in a pretty cup. Everything's pretty. Nell's doing, Callen's sure. He likes Nell, he really does, he just doesn't understand how the hell she manages to keep up with Eric's innate clumsiness. The man is a computer whiz, even shut down the internet on a couple of occasions for a case, but in the real world, he leaves a lot to be desired.

Usually, he doesn't do the approaching. He's not an unattractive man and he knows that too many years in a dangerous job gives off those bad boys vibes women are supposed to love. He's content enough with what he's got, really – a bunch of one-nighters that rarely, if ever, turn into multiple nighters – but this one intrigues him.

She looks worn out.

"You look like you could use something stronger."

He almost berates himself the minute the words come out of his mouth. Really Callen? Really?

Her eyes flutter open though, mismatched and deep, but exhausted. She offers him a tiny smile. "I wish. This Christmas is hurting my eyes."

He merely arches an eyebrow.

"Driving," she offers. "I love Nell, dearly, but God, I hate this party."

"Not a fan of Christmas?" he inquires, settling against the wall beside her. It's only now that he's so close he notices the tense, weary set of her shoulders, the anxieties that she's carrying behind her eyes.

"I like the holiday well enough," she says with a shrug. "It's all this… over the top stuff that gets me. But, it's Nell right? You suffer through these kind of things for the people you love."

"You sound like Eric."

She chuckles, and Callen decides he likes that look much more than the so-tired one she'd been wearing seconds prior. "You're one of his then?"

Callen nods, drawn. He's never drawn. He's a damn federal agent. But there's something in her, a mystery to be solved, and he doesn't quite know how he wants to go about it. He's pretty sure he can figure her out, but she's being shockingly unforthcoming. He doesn't even know her name. In his experience, women give that out rather freely in the presence of attractive men. "And you're one of hers."

"Maid of honour," she confesses. "I kind of wish she'd picked one of her million cousins so I wouldn't have to be here, but I also wouldn't envy that choice."

"Co-worker friends?"

She shakes her head. "Older than that. And before she gets to tell you the story, I moved here first. She followed me." There's a smile in the corner of her mouth that tells him this is a long-standing argument, like she and Nell have this discussion constantly.

"Oh ho ho ho!"

He's watching her, rather than the obnoxiously drunk man that seems to have noticed them. Damn, and he was hoping to stay inconspicuous for just a little longer.

"Look who's under mistletoe!"

Sure enough, when Callen looks up, there's a spring of the damn stuff. He's been pretty good at avoiding it all night, had scoped them all out early since Eric had warned them that Nell had gone all out with the stuff this year. When he brings his eyes back down to her, she's looking at the man, long-suffering in her gaze.

"Uncle Max, you're drunk."

"No!" he protests immediately and Callen smiles. "I'm enjoying the season. Now, you know how this works Kensi. You have to kiss the man!"

"There's no berries on it," Kensi – now he knows her name, and he has to admit, he likes it – argues back, one hand even coming up to perch on her hip. From the looks of it, this is a normal thing. "How is he supposed to take a berry afterwards?"

'Uncle Max' looks incredibly confused, but he's drawn the attention of the crowd. Callen can feel it because it makes his skin prickle. He does not like being the center of attention. Ever. From the look that he sees pass over her face in the corner of his eye, she doesn't either. In fact, he even hears her swear under her breath. He bites his cheek against a smile. When she turns to face him, she looks resigned.

"Sorry. Don't think you put 'kiss a random girl' on your list tonight."

He shrugs. "I can suffer through it."

It makes her mouth twitch and his stomach leap. What is it about this one? He's never had the stomach-leaping problem before. But then she's leaning in and, yup, that's her mouth against his. For such a short kiss – barely the press of her lips – it rocks him and he has to force his mind back into gear when she's pulled back. The room fills with cheers and wolf-whistles and she blushes before shoving her drink into his hand and taking off.

Callen doesn't chase her, not with the way she took off. He's smarter than that. Instead, he lifts her glass to his lips. It is cider, he discovers. And he thinks maybe he can taste where her mouth had been.

Maybe this wedding won't be the event from hell he was expecting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hot Chocolate**

Nell calls court at a coffee shop.

It's a very 'her' place to be, if anything Eric's said is correct. She teaches at CalTech and has a thing for specialty coffee. Eric's told that story a million times too, how he'd met and wooed Nell. Specialty coffee. To her office. Every day.

Callen can remember all sorts of days he was late.

The whole wedding party is in attendance – and honestly, how had he been roped into this again – including the mysterious Kensi. He slides into the seat beside her a smile already on his face.

"Fancy seeing you here."

She snorts. "Maid of honour, remember? Kind of obligated. Plus, where else would I be?"

He looks at her strangely for that. She could be anywhere. Work, for one, which is where he should be. But so should Sam, so he doesn't think much of it. Eric too. Hetty's been giving them a whole lot of time off for this wedding thing. He finds it interesting since most days he's pretty sure Hetty doesn't even like Eric. And he's pretty sure Hetty's never met Nell.

"Okay! Welcome everyone." Nell's standing at the end of the table and Callen just barely resists the urge to snort. He had been originally kidding, thinking Nell was holding court, but even with her petite stature she most definitely looks like she's about to pass down an edict.

"We have the whole wedding party here for the first time." She beams. Callen's gaze shoots to Kensi and sees the forced nature of her smile. Now he definitely knows there's something going on with her. There's some odd thing about the way she's reacting to this whole wedding thing. "Which is a little scary considering we're three weeks away from the wedding."

Eric reaches out, squeezes her hand. Nell's shoulders relax a little and Callen's not an expert on love, but he thinks maybe that's a part of it, that innate understanding of another person.

"I just want to go over the schedule of the next three weeks since so many of you have been so great about moving around family holidays and what have you."

A December 24th wedding. Christmas Eve. He doesn't want to know what Sam had to do to smooth that over with Michele. And Eric had looked so panicked when he'd crowded Sam and Callen in Ops one day that Callen had actually been grateful there's no family to speak of on his side. Nothing to rearrange. It sounds positively chaotic.

Not that he'd know. Christmas isn't something he generally celebrates.

"Oh my God! What the hell?"

It's a new voice, an angry voice, and it floats over to them over the general chatter of the coffee shop. Then again, the chatter all but dies out at the sound, a shrill, shrieking noise. And it befits the woman using it, thunderous face fixed on the shaggy man behind the bar.

"Are you an idiot? Incompetent? You can't even hand over a cup of coffee?"

Callen's eyes dart around the group out of habit. While most look embarrassed on behalf of the poor man, Nell's chewing her lip and Kensi- her face is way too calm.

"N-no, Miss, I-"

"Do you have any idea how much this shirt cost? I come here for the service and this is how you repay me? Five years. Five years of my consistent patronage and-"

He's sure there's more, but he's watching something much more interesting as Nell and Kensi share a look. Then Kensi's sighing, apology all over her face. She stands smoothly, and Callen's kind of surprised to see the black pants. They look like a uniform, and the pretty flats round out the look with a scary amount of professionalism. He hadn't noticed her hair before either, tugged back in a chic bun-like thing. He'd been too struck by her face. Again.

"Miss Cavanaugh, is there a problem?"

Wait, what? What is she doing?

"A problem? A _problem?_ Miss Blye this incompetent _idiot _has managed to spill my extra hot, non-fat, no foam extra hazelnut latte all over the front of my blouse!"

Callen would have likely been impressed with how quickly that order rattled off the woman's tongue if he hadn't been too busy watching Kensi. She doesn't flinch. She just offers a serene smile as she steps closer to the woman and guides her off to the side. She speaks to the woman quietly and Callen is absolutely shocked at the way the woman's face goes from dangerous to accepting.

Then, it's Kensi who personally steps behind the counter, who personally goes about getting a new to-go cup and personally securing the little plastic top. She offers the woman a calm smile and sends her on her way. The shaggy man looks up from the next coffee he's making and offers her a regretful smile. She waves him off and Callen doesn't catch the short conversation they have.

She returns to the table with that plastered on smile, and while half of the table seems perfectly content, Callen is merely all the more curious. He's so curious, so intrigued that he misses absolutely everything that Nell says about the upcoming wedding and schedule. Suddenly he's glad he's on Eric's side of the aisle. The man wants this to go off without a hitch so Callen's pretty sure he'll just hand over a schedule if he isn't going to e-mail one later today.

Which means he can watch her.

She pays attention, takes notes, but her gaze also darts around every once in a while, paying attention to each and every person who walks through the door. Most she discards, people she doesn't even make eye contact with, but others, others she offers a smile, even a little wave. He wonders if her decision to sit at the far end of the table from Nell was deliberate. She's not taking away from Nell, but she's also interacting with customers. Even so, she looks tired, worn out, like she could just go home, curl up and pretend the world didn't exist.

Eventually, Nell finishes, a broad grin on her face. Yeah, Callen hadn't heard a damn thing, but that's okay with him. He's found something way more interesting.

Her eyes come up as everyone shuffles around and away, some to the counter, others out the door and back to their daily routines. Nell and Eric stay buried in wedding plans and Kensi –

When he looks back, she's already gone.

Well damn.

Since Nell seems entirely preoccupied, he goes for the next best thing.

It's late enough that there's a lull in customers and Shaggy is cleaning up one of the massive industrial coffee makers places like this use. He looks up when Callen steps to the counter.

"What can I get you?"

"Kensi," Callen replies. "She's your boss?"

Shaggy's eyes narrow. "What's it to you?"

Callen shrugs, intrigued by the protectiveness that Kensi has quite obviously inspired. It makes him wonder what kind of person she is, what's happened to her, that it inspires that much of a response in her co-workers. Maybe even employees. "Looks like she's had a bit of a rough morning."

"Boss is the first one in last one to leave, right?"

Callen nods slowly. She is his boss. Well, there's another thing he can add to the sparse details he's learning about Kensi Blye.

"Plus, Audrey called in sick so she would have been short staffed for the rush this morning. Then there's Nell and the wedding. The maid of honour thing's been running her pretty ragged."

He picked a talkative one. Callen's glad. Then he makes an impulsive decision. "She got something that helps?"

Shaggy seems to look at him, scrutinizing carefully. He must see something because he leans forward. "No one's supposed to know. Specialty chocolate shop a block down does hot chocolate. Not cocoa, she hates the powdered stuff. We're talking real chocolate, melted down in a cup. She won't tell you she drinks it, but most of us know better." He seems to take Callen in again.

"Here, take this. They'll give it to you in a paper cup, slide this one over it. It's how she hides that it's not ours. Not good for the boss to be seen drinking from a competitor."

Callen gets two. If it's as phenomenal as Shaggy says, he wants to give it a try. And he does, right there in the shop, almost groaning in rapture. Now he gets it. Definitely gets it.

Kensi's not in the shop when he returns, but neither is Nell or Eric and all of the wedding party have vanished. But Shaggy's still working the counter and he lifts his eyebrows when Callen returns. Callen holds up the cup and Shaggy's lips twitch.

"She's hibernating," he says. "I'll make sure it gets to her. And you are?"

"Callen," he answers and he has no idea what possesses him to give his real name. He never does. Ever.

"Cheers, Mister Callen."

It's not quite what he'd wanted, but it'll have to do.

And he is most certainly hoping, maybe irrationally, that it'll brighten her day.

* * *

_Somehow, the last chapter didn't save. So, I'm going to say the same thing that was supposed to be said last chapter?_

_THIS IS NOT WHAT I CONSIDER MY ANNUAL CHRISTMAS STORY. As such, it's not going to be updated everyday, obviously. I'm going to try and get caught up, but I'm not making any guarantees. It's not my priority, it's just something that bit me in the butt so the plot bunny needs to be set free. _

_The days are prompts off another list on Tumblr. Message me if you really want it but I'm sure you can find about a million floating about this time of year. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Snow/Snowflakes**

"Are you kidding me? I'm a Federal Agent, a Special Agent and you want me to cut snowflakes?"

"Nell wants snow," Eric says, looking more than a little panicked about the whole thing. "We're in LA. She wants snow, in LA. Do you know what that costs? We don't exactly have an endless budget here and Nell's on this kick to get all of the decorations done by hand-"

"And you agreed?" Callen inquires, arms folded over his chest. He's not looking forward to this either. Eric and Nell's dining room table is absolutely covered in white paper, and only a tiny handful of hand-cut flakes.

"It's my _wedding_. Do I look suicidal to you?"

"Your wedding or your wife?" Steve Beale is the exact opposite of his brother. A jock, social, in PR. They're black and white siblings, he and Eric, but it means Steve's best man by default and both Callen and Sam are glad for that. A whole lot of responsibility they don't need to worry about.

"Does it matter?" Eric asks. He does look pathetic, Callen'll give him that. Absolutely pathetic. "Look, I've called for reinforcements, okay, but she can't be here so-"

"She?" Steve asks with a raised eyebrow. "Is she single?"

Eric gives his brother a baleful look. "She's Nell's best friend and she has practice at this, okay? Don't be a jerk."

"Me? I am never a jerk!"

"Tell that to your ex-girlfriends."

Callen smirks. Sometimes, when pushed to the edge, Eric's sass has a life of it's own. Then it hits him. Nell's best friend. "The maid of honour?"

He doesn't even realize he's asked the question before it's out of his mouth and Eric's answered the affirmative. Kensi. Kensi's had practice. Practice making paper snowflakes. How on earth is a woman who runs a coffee shop supposed to have practice making snowflakes? From what he'd seen, the Christmas decorations at the shop had been pre-fabricated, purchased and stenciled on the windows.

So what makes her so well-practiced?

"She was hot."

Eric actually growls. "Hands. Off. Steven."

Callen wings an eyebrow. First Shaggy and now Eric. Kensi seems to inspire protectiveness in most people. He can understand that. Somewhere in amongst his rabid curiosity is the same instinct, the same need to avoid hurting her, to keep her safe and happy. It's becoming apparent that she really does inspire it in everyone she meets.

"Eric?"

It's her voice and it makes him perk up. Not physically, of course, visibly, but he can feel the awareness down to his fingers, a tingle he only ever feels when he's about to make a massive arrest. But this isn't about arrests, this is about a woman. A woman stepping through the doorway in soft jeans and a t-shirt.

She looks stunning like this, outside of her work clothes, outside of everything. She's casual, hair down, dark, flowing and Callen decides he likes this look on her too. He's discovering he likes every look on her.

"Kensi! Thank God."

She smiles and it's genuine. It's a thing of beauty. "No problem."

"No, seriously, Kens. Hand made. Did you hear her? _Hand-made_. I'm no good at this."

"Eric," she says calmly. "Breathe, okay? Go… do something else productive."

Sam arches an eyebrow. "How does he get off the hook?"

"Have you seen him with scissors?" she asks in response. "I'd rather not make an ER trip because he manages to cut off his finger. Plus, Nell'd kill me. I'd like to avoid the drama."

The grin crawls up Callen's cheeks. It's involuntary. It's actually kind of frustrating. Since when did his body do such involuntary things? Since never, that's when. He's a very well-trained undercover federal agent. He's had bombs strapped to his chest, guns held to his face and potentially exposed to any number of poisons. He can control his reaction for lie detector tests and drug kingpins, but the sound of her voice, the sight of her, a woman he's known all of two days, sends his muscles into involuntary movements.

She offers him a tentative smile, offers all of them a tentative smile, and adjusts the bag on her shoulder. "The rest of you. We have a lot of snowflakes to finish and not a lot of time. Let's get to work."

She's actually incredibly efficient about it. She lines them all up on one side and sets them all with different tasks. She sits on the other, directly across from Callen and he actually spends much more time watching her cut snowflakes that he does cutting his own. He is impressed. Totally and honestly impressed. She's quick, efficient and they come out much better than anything he and Sam and Steve can accomplish. And in half the time.

Which explains why both Sam and Steve beg off early. Kensi doesn't argue. She doesn't even look like she cares and he can't blame her. Sam's been good, been reading her carefully, but Steve's been pushy and she's closed down so tight, Callen's not sure he's going to manage to get any new information out of her. Which is too bad. He most definitely wants to know more.

And maybe that's why he can't keep his damn mouth shut.

"How are you so good at this?"

Her eyes come up and he's surprised to see a little secretive smile in the corner of her mouth. "I was a Big Sister," she reveals, hands moving smoothly as she cuts yet another flake.

"To a kid?" he can't help but ask. He can never help but ask. She's giving him the tiniest of openings and he's a little surprised at how much he's willing to take whatever she would like to give. It's a little embarrassing actually, and he's really glad she can't read his mind.

"She liked snowflakes."

There's a story there, Callen can sense it, but he also knows when people are giving off the 'shut up and go away' vibes. Of course he knows. He perfected them. What strikes him is the way he wants to know, how badly he wants to know, and at the same time how much he is refusing to push. If she were a suspect, a target, he's pretty sure he'd be able to charm the answer out of her. But she's not, and he has also learned that sometimes it's patience and persistence that wins the day.

He changes the topic, asking about Eric and Nell, their relationship from Kensi's perspective. She's more open about that, openly adoring of Nell and Eric and a little scathing in the way she describes Nell wearing the pants. She'll talk about anything but herself, it seems, and that, it itself, is a pretty big clue.

She's hiding something; she's holding onto something.

And it only makes Callen want to know more.

* * *

_Quick back to back updates! They make me happy. Which is hilarious considering I'm a day behind on the "real" annual christmas story and three days behind on this one. This is the one that's bit me though. Maybe I should have written last year's in an AU and this would not have been a problem. It wouldn't have taken me a bloody year. _

_I'm so excited to see so many of you enjoying what I'm writing! It makes me really happy. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Candy Canes**

The next day he gets up early.

Well, actually, he doesn't sleep. He's an insomniac, the worst kind, and he's so glad that he can work on sleep like that because more often than not, it just does not come. He accepted it a long time ago. It's just who he is. He can't even exhaust himself into it. He's tried.

There is a benefit though. A double benefit if you count the candy cane he'd managed to find on his desk yesterday. Wedding favours, if he remembers right. They'd tied a whole bunch of bows on too many candy canes a couple of weeks ago. Or maybe it was months and it was wedding invitations. Either way, he's got a perfectly good candy cane and he has an idea of what to do with it.

Still, he waits. He's patient.

When he's pretty sure the morning rush is finished, he heads for that tiny little coffee shop.

She's not behind the counter, and neither is Shaggy this time. Honestly, he doesn't care, just uses his carefully honed ninja skills – and that's what they are, no matter how many times Sam teases him about it – to slip past the college kid and into the back hallway. The door at the end is open, just a crack and he finds himself knocking.

Her hair is a mess today, thrown up haphazardly, but it's a good look on her. She's wearing all black and he's pretty sure that's a brand new milk stain he can see on the right side of her chest. He doesn't flipping care.

"Hi," she says and he's remarkably amused by the surprise in her tone.

"Hi," he answers easily.

She eyes him critically for a moment. "You're the one that dropped the chocolate off with Deeks."

She'd had him until Deeks. "What?"

"Deeks. Blond. Male. Shaggy hair?"

Shaggy. Shaggy has a name. Or a nickname he thinks.

He shrugs. "He might of mentioned you had a weakness."

"He shouldn't have mentioned anything at all."

That sends an eyebrow up. She's a tough nut to crack, he'd known that since the beginning. But tough nuts didn't just kiss random strangers, mistletoe or no. And they certainly didn't tell those same people the tiny details, like being a Big Sister. Not in his experience.

"Callen, right?"

So she'd asked. Okay, or paid attention. He's going to go with 'asked' since no one can hear his thoughts. He likes that idea better. "And you're Kensi."

She hums the affirmative and leans back, waving absently to one of the two chairs in front of the desk. She looks good behind it, he thinks, even if the damn thing is a right mess.

"The boss lets you sit at his desk?" he can't help but asking.

He gets an eyebrow in response, a bit of a proud smirk. "She likes me."

"You're close, then."

"Practically the same person."

There's so much amusement in her eyes, mirth and laughter and he doesn't know why. He's not entirely sure he cares to find out because he's damn mesmerized by it. Mismatched eyes and dark hair.

"Why are you here?"

It's a million dollar question. The correct answer is that he wanted to see her. Which is preposterous considering he's known her all of three days. But he knows so little and she holds so much back and he cannot stand a mystery. He solves them. It's his job. He finds hidden things, lures them out and then he puts all the pieces together until they make the proper puzzle. But she's not being near as forthcoming and it intrigues him as much as it drives him wild. What does she have to hide? Why does she guard herself so closely?

"I brought you this," he says instead, reaching into his pocket.

He is infinitely rewarded when her eyes light up. She reaches long elegant fingers out for the cane and cradles it in her palms like a treasure.

"What is it?" he finds himself asking. The look on her face is so full of awe, and he's pretty sure that much should not be on her face from a simple candy cane.

"Nothing," she says, but the look doesn't leave her eyes. So he's quiet, patient, waiting. He's already used to it with her and it's only been seventy-two hours. Kensi talks when she's ready. He thinks maybe silence bothers her.

"You know the first thing Eric ever gave Nell was a candy cane?"

He blinks. He hadn't known that. Of course, he hadn't really paid attention to the intricacies of Eric's relationship. What's more is that Kensi has just provided him with a glimpse of everything inside, the tender part that he knows she's guarding. The fact that she remembers that, her best friend's first gift from her soon-to-be husband, is definitely insightful.

She's a romantic.

So whatever happened, whatever's got her guarded is probably heartbreak, he thinks. It's not the hard-knock life because she's calm and professional in this office. He's pretty sure it's not her friends because he's seen her head to head with Nell and they look thick as thieves. Which leaves romance, really, and from the absolutely smitten look on her face he's pretty sure that's a good guess.

A guess he keeps to himself.

She must be able to tell that he hadn't known that though, or maybe that he hadn't remembered it like she did because she blushes that fetching shade of pink again and blinks away that awe.

"Sorry," she says on a laugh. "As you can tell I'm not used to people just handing out candy canes."

He shrugs it off, but there's definitely a genuine smile twitching at the corner of his smirk. "As the saying goes, there's a first time for everything."

Like the first time she flashes him a proper, wide, absolutely beaming grin.

He thinks maybe he'll bring her a candy cane every day, stranger or not.

Because that's a grin that should be a daily occurrence.

* * *

_I believe this is what people call a 'roll'. _

_Now I've jinxed it though, so that kinda sucks. We'll see. I'm vaguely delusional because I'm dead on my feet so I'm not entirely sure what's going on right now. Fun! _

_And yes, for the record, when I read this note over later I'm going to be all like "man, someone should have told me to shut down the computer an hour ago". But for now you get the insanity of my ridiculousness all unfiltered in text form. _

_Oh my God, I'm going to bed. _

_I love you all for enjoying this. The story, I mean. A lot. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Christmas Tree**

Even he can admit his plan for today is a little creepy.

As far as he knows, they have no wedding stuff. None. The schedule that Eric dutifully forwarded to all of his side involved says that he is not required to do anything. Literally too, since Hetty's on this health kick that requires friends and days off.

He hates days off.

Well, he usually hates days off.

Today, it doesn't seem like such a bad thing. He's pretty sure his plan's still creepy, but he has the whole day to do it. He likes that.

So, he sets up shop in the corner of Kensi's little place and hangs out.

He's late enough that he knows he's missed her working the till at opening – which is too bad and he makes a mental note to do it sometime soon – but he's pretty sure she's still here. The door to the back office he'd gone in just yesterday is open a crack, like she enjoys the sound of the hustle and bustle. He reads a book, mostly. He's got his laptop but it's not really like he can do any classified work on the table of an LA coffee shop, even if the place is a bit niche market and totally a hole-in-the-wall surprise.

She comes out around lunch.

"Deeks says you've been here all morning."

He looks up from a rather riveting mental story of the man currently sitting on the bus bench across the street to see her, hands on her hips, looking down at him. He merely offers a calm smile. "When are you off shift."

"Never," she says and he definitely loves a woman with a come back.

"Come on."

She rolls her eyes. "The lunch rush is almost here, then there are books to keep, Callen. Then the late rush and inventory to do. What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't the books be the owner's job?" he asks almost stupidly. She's got that veneer on, the one that says he should just back off and leave. The problem is, he doesn't want to do that. At all. Maybe ever. He doesn't know. What he does know is that when he'd woken up this morning – he'd managed like six hours of sleep, a small miracle – he'd wanted to be here. It's a strange emotion for him too.

She just stands there, hands on her hips, eyebrow raised. It's the same look she's been giving him since she'd come out to find him here, not even a shift in her microexpressions, so he has absolutely no idea what makes him blurt. "You're the owner."

"Gold star," she murmurs and he can see she's impressed, even as he sees her guard rise just a little. So there's something to that too, something about being the owner of this place that makes her back rise.

Thing is, it just buoys his heart. "So you can take time whenever."

"Books. Inventory. Coffee to sell, customers to make happy. Any of this ringing a bell?"

"You took the time to cut snowflakes."

"Emergency situation. Again, Eric in the ER. Bad. Nell's ensuing freak out, also bad."

But he's already standing, book in hand and not a care in the world as to the fact that he's just rather effectively lost his page. He's making another bloody impulsive decision with her, another thing that he should not do but is doing anyway and he's surprised to find that it's not as odd as he'd anticipated.

"Take an hour."

"You can have five minutes."

"An hour," he pushes. He steps towards her, putting them toe to toe and she does not back down. "I have a surprise."

"I don't like surprises." But she likes him. He can tell by the awareness in her gaze.

"You'll like this one."

He has absolutely no idea what it is that changes her mind, but he sees the moment it does. Her face clears, almost completely and he thinks he might just be able to make out the way her mouth curls up. "Any longer than an hour and I'm leaving you behind."

He's going to make sure she doesn't have to.

Still, she seems more than a little disappointment when he pulls into a parking lot. "Walmart?"

He arches an eyebrow. "Trust, remember?"

Actually, he's nervous. He's very nervous and it's making him itchy. He hates it. He's never nervous, not even when he has a gun pointed at his head. She makes him nervous and it's the first time that's happened. Ever.

She follows him into the chaos of Walmart and he's more than a little surprised when she actually reaches for his hand. While his skin tingles, he can't see it as anything other than logical. They have to weave their way through aisles and aisles of people and true, he doesn't want to lose her. Especially since he doesn't have a cell phone number if he has to find her again. Still, he likes the feeling of her hand in his. A lot.

"What are we doing here?"

"Your store doesn't have a Christmas tree."

He feels the tug on his hand that tells him she's stopped. Thing is, he keeps walking so she stumbles into his back before she gets her footing again. It's too bad, he thinks, because even that brief press of her body had felt pretty good.

"We don't need a tree."

"Of course you do," he replies. Actually, he couldn't care less. It's Christmas. Thing is though, it's _her_ store and it'll be _her_ tree and he's spending time with _her_. At least to himself he's willing to admit that deciding her store needs a tree is specifically about her.

"I can't have a tree," she argues. "There's celebrating Christmas as a business and crossing the line for those customers that don't."

"Even Starbucks hangs lights and wears Santa hats," he reasons. "You can have a tree. And maybe if you're lucky I'll even help you decorate it."

He flashes her a grin over his shoulder and it makes her smile back impulsively. Still, it feels like a success to him. Maybe she won't hate this as much as she thinks.

"I don't have decorations. Or a tree stand."

"It's Walmart," he points out easily. "We'll find some for you. Non-denominational, of course."

They find the store's stand of trees and he waves his arm wide. He'd spread both, but her hand is still in his and until she lets go, he's not going to. "Where are we going to start?"

For a woman who had originally no intention of getting a tree, she is extremely picky. Kensi makes him hold up every tree she points to – it feels like every tree in Walmart's seasonal section – while she walks around it. He should be annoyed, but every time she walks around the tree she slips beneath his arm and brushes against his chest. Her scent mingles with pine and Christmas in his nose and if he'd been a romantic, he'd probably think he was lightheaded with it.

Finally she finds one she seems to like and they pack it up. And then, like she's found her elf spirit, she drags him through aisles of decorations.

But he doesn't care, because that grin he'd seen when he'd brought her a candy cane is painted across her face again and he'll let her drag him through aisles and aisles of Christmas stuff for that grin.

* * *

_Slow and steady, right? Gracious. Three days behind in the real one (two now? I think. I'm flipping exhausted, don't ask) and this is 5, so like 6 days behind here? I sure as hell hope that I can catch up. I have a road trip next week, so it may be possible while I'm hanging out in the car. _

_How's that crossing fingers going?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Lights**

Callen's discovered he has a problem. And that problem is that he doesn't have a plan. Not a concrete one at any rate and that means when he wakes up, there's little bit of a sinking feeling in his stomach. Sure, he could go to her shop again, hang out, but something tells him that Kensi won't take it as well today as she had yesterday. He'd also promised to help her decorate should she so choose and he's honestly a little irrationally afraid to go and find the thing already decorated. It's the only part of Christmas he's ever really felt like he'd missed as a kid.

What's funny is that it's Nell that gives him the opportunity.

The anal-retentive bride-to-be calls them all in to Carondelet House on the afternoon of December sixth, looking harried.

"Fairy lights. I want fairly lights everywhere," Callen hears Nell saying as he makes his way through the halls. "Kensi-"

"Fairy lights. I heard Nell. We'll get you fairy lights."

He smiles. She's calm and collected, Kensi, like this isn't – by far – the first time she's been talking Nell off the ledge.

"But how are we supposed to do that and Christmas trees? That much light and we won't need the lights along the tables."

Callen's brow wrinkles. How much light is Nell talking here? They're going to blow a fuse in the place if she's not careful.

It's just Kensi and Nell standing in the massive venue space. Nell's wandering about the room, hands on hips, while Kensi's pulled a chair to the centre and is merely watching her friend wander. She spots him first though, and offers a small smile. It's a marked difference from the last couple of days and it makes him smirk back.

"How is she?" he asks in a low voice as he gets closer. His hand falls to the back of the chair without real thought on his part. It just seems natural, even as his fingers brush against the back of her shoulder.

Kensi sighs. "Worrying. She's so calm and collected, but when it comes to wedding stuff, she's a neurotic wreck."

"Callen! Thank you. God, where is everyone else? We've only got a couple of weeks and we have to get the floor plan worked out today."

"Floor plan?" he murmurs to Kensi. Weddings are so not his thing.

She sighs. "Decorations, tables. Nell wants to know where everything is going to be day of. That includes the garlands, lights, tree decorations, dance floor, tables, chairs… Almost to the place setting."

"Almost?"

"I vetoed the props when we left the house."

Callen blinks. "She was going to bring her own dishes?"

"Yup."

"Wow."

Kensi hums. "I get it though. This is a big deal to Nell."

She sounds a bit wistful and Callen has to bite the inside of his cheek pretty hard to keep from asking. It's not his place. Not yet, anyway, and he doesn't want to risk pushing her away because he's asked the wrong question at the wrong time.

"And holly. Fairy lights and holly. Together. I'm seeing holly."

Both Kensi and Callen turn their attention back to the bride tearing her way through the empty hall.

"Where are the tables?"

"They're coming," Kensi answers and only Callen is close enough to see the way her mouth twitches. She finds this funny. He finds it a bit scary.

"Is she always like this?"

Kensi shakes her head, just enough so he sees it. "She's a perfectionist. Nothing but the best. And she has a big family."

"Okay. I think I'm freaking out. You know? Like, everything should be here and nothing's here and what if that's what happens on Christmas Eve. I can't happen on Christmas Eve, because that is my wedding day. The actual day. So it all has to go well. I think I'm having a panic attack."

Callen's starting to think that maybe this is where someone – like the _maid of honour_ for example – is supposed to step in but Kensi doesn't move. She just lets it happen. Since Kensi's Nell's best friend, Callen leaves it go, but it takes a heck of a lot of will power to stay put.

"Kensi, was it like this for you? You and Jack? Did you have panic attacks?"

She's ramrod straight beside him. Jack. She'd been engaged before. To a man called Jack. Callen feels his mind reeling. It shouldn't, probably. She's beautiful and she's smart. She's resourceful and whatever has her so independent makes her a mystery and a hell of a shell to crack. Callen's not blind to the allure. What he doesn't understand is why the hell this Jack guy let her go.

"We didn't really get this far."

He shouldn't feel relief, not when it's obviously a painful subject. And he can tell it's a painful subject by the way she will not look at him.

"Miss Jones? How are things in here?"

Kensi sags, just a little, like she's glad Nell's not about to bring _that_ up again. Thing is, Callen's onto it. He's a dog with a bone and he wants to know more.

"You were engaged," he murmurs, just barely.

Her eyes are flat when she turns to look at him and there's no expression on her face. He almost regrets asking the question but he's too curious. He wants to know, needs to know.

"I was," she says. "And now I'm not."

"You broke up with him?" he pushes. He can't help it. Honestly, he can't.

"He left me." Her voice has never, ever been that cold, not even when she was trying to get him out of her store, out of her office and not even to Uncle Max who'd pushed them together under the mistletoe. He has a sudden glimpse of a formidable woman and the reason Nell would have picked her. "Now if you'll excuse me."

She steps around him neatly with a plastered on smile and Callen knows he just screwed up.

Big.

* * *

_And this is the part where it was really hard to balance the Nell we saw that talked Eric's ear off in their first episode together with the Nell I've got here. _

_Also? It's really cool that there are things about the lives of the characters that translates so easily. Like, Jack or Deeks, who just fit seamlessly into this without having to change much. Deeks could totally be a barista. And having a fiancee that walked away is kind of a thing that happens to people outside of NCIS. I'm not quite sure Jack'll be the same yet, but we shall see. _

_You are all dolls for reviewing and enjoying this. it's such an adventure to write because of the AU, because it's Christmas-y and because this does not feel near the battle that last year's was. And yet you guys are being so patient while I work out some of the kinks and iron out some of the details. It's a phenomenal feeling and I love each and every one of you so much. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Baking**

He'd learned early that when you screwed up with a woman, you apologized with gifts. He'd also learned that there were levels to these 'gifts'. He'd screwed up asking about Jack, he knows that. He'd known it at the time and given that she hadn't spoke a word to him the rest of the evening – thank God everyone else had slowly started trickling in after that – he's going to bet that the screw up was significant.

He knows it's not a jewelry screw up – and he's not her boyfriend, so there is that. He's already left her that chocolate from the store down the street, and he's not sure that's quite enough. Flowers feel cliché and a bit too much like he's giving his own game a way a bit early.

So, at a loss, he wanders into that chocolate heaven not far from Kensi's work to ask.

He's met with a redhead at the counter, humming to herself just a little. Actually, she's so wrapped up in the humming that it takes her a good couple of minutes to notice she even has a customer.

"Oh! Hi. Sorry. I get carried away."

Callen waves it away. He's not upset. In fact, he'd been kind of glad for it because he has no idea what he's doing here. Or what he's supposed to be doing here. Or what- Just, he'd like the solitude. Now he's feeling pressure.

"Can I help you?"

He sighs. "There's a woman."

"Oh! I love these stories."

"And I screwed up."

The woman hums her acknowledgement, her smile still wide and bright.

"And I should probably say sorry."

"That sounds like a great idea," she chirps. "We've got plenty of 'sorry' gifts."

"Yeah, but this is… Different?"

She hums.

"I asked about an ex."

She shakes her head this time, short hair bouncing. "Never a good call."

"Yeah well. Her best friend brought it up in the middle of a pre-wedding panic attack and I was curious." He shrugs.

"Curiosity killed the cat," she sings.

He snorts. "It didn't make sense. I hate it when things don't make sense."

Her brow wrinkles. If he hadn't been so focused on Kensi he might have called it adorable. As it is, he misses the look completely. "Why doesn't it make sense?"

"She's not the kind of girl you just up and walk away from."

He's looking at the brownies – various flavours and kinds and he is never going to make a decision on this one – so he misses the way her eyes widen.

"Oh my God, it's Kensi!"

Now it's his turn to be absolutely shocked. "You know Kensi?"

The woman nods fast and hard and he's dizzy just watching her. Still, the woman makes a beeline for the other side of the counter and the glass case of cupcakes. "We're friends. And customers. She has the best caramel coffee on the planet and she has a weakness for our hot chocolate? And she's the only woman I know who has a best friend getting married _and_ had a fiancée walk out on her. Which was stupid, I'll have you know and I have no idea why he did it. Everything was fine."

And again, Callen just can't help himself. "You know what happened?"

"Of course I do. Kensi and I have been friends for years. He had PTSD, you know? That thing that soldiers get? Except he was just a guy. Aerospace engineer. Smart. And then he got caught in that robbery."

Callen stays quiet, just watching as she pulls a cupcake from its spot and sets about wrapping it. Plus, in his experience, if he gave people the space to talk, they inevitably filled it.

And sure enough: "I mean, don't get me wrong, no one should watch a child die, but to walk out on Kensi like that? He said he couldn't get over it. It didn't help that the police really relied on him for the eyewitness testimony. Even had him moved around in witness protection for a while because they thought there were gang connections. It was a mess."

Well huh. That did change things, didn't it.

"Really shook him up. And then, of course, there was his sister. Between that and her dad, Kensi's never been the same."

Jack's sister? Her dad?

Dear God, every time he found something out about this woman, there's something else in it's place. He's starting to think he's never going to get to know everything about Kensi.

"But don't you worry. You take her that and she'll be your best friend for life. Though maybe that's not all you want her to be?"

Callen laughs, though it's a little awkward. She's hit the nail on the head, but it feels strange to talk about. He's never been going at talking about his feelings. "Thanks-"

"Rose. And now you know where I work so come by whenever! Oh, that sounded creepy."

He just chuckles, then heads out of the store and down the two blocks. The place his hopping, not quite a rush but not dead either. There's a teenager at the till and Deeks is manning the cappuccino maker like a pro.

"I've got a small extra-hot black caramel," he calls out just before he spots Callen. When he does, his face changes and he frowns, but Callen couldn't care less. Not only that, but he knows Deeks only has half of the information and a protective streak. He would too, he thinks, if their roles were reversed.

Instead he presumes a little bit and heads down the hall. Her door's open a crack, it always is it seems, and he pushes it open without knocking.

"Deeks, how many times do I have- Oh. Not Deeks."

"No," Callen agrees. "I owe you an apology."

She leans back, folding her arms across her chest. Defensive, but listening. Callen can understand that. So he reaches back, closing the door softly. He doesn't want to be overheard.

"I asked some questions yesterday that I shouldn't have."

He slides the cupcake towards her.

She huffs out a sigh, but he can see a smile quirking the corner of her mouth. When she opens the Styrofoam container, her eyes widen but her smile broadens. "Rose was working?"

"You have a lot of friends."

"They're good people," she murmurs, already reaching in and swiping a finger through the icing. He feels his body tighten when that finger makes it's way into her mouth. Eventually, she pulls her finger from her mouth with a pop and faces him again. "I owe you an apology too. It's a sore spot. I wish it wasn't."

He shrugs. It's her life, her privacy, and he'd intruded.

"I thought about it, last night. About telling you. I shouldn't have gotten mad. But Jack wasn't healthy and he thought he put too much of that on me. So he got up and walked away because he thought I couldn't handle it."

Her eyes are far off, glazed, and he wishes he could reach forward to touch her. He wishes he could wrap his arms around her and hang on, too, but he's blatantly ignoring that yearning. He likes her and she's attractive but what he's thinking includes lazy Sunday mornings and picnics in the park. And he never thinks of lazy days or picnics.

"How did you meet him?" It's a neutral question, he figures, but he asks it softly in the hope that she knows she doesn't have to share if she doesn't want to.

She huffs. "I met Jack through Big Sisters. I told you I had one?"

He remembers that. Big Sisters and snowflakes, a week ago.

"Jack was my sister's brother. Real brother. Biological. And when Laura got sick-"

"Sick?"

She sighs. "Cancer."

He feels something click. "She liked snowflakes."

"We'd spend hours," Kensi says, melancholy again. "I can't even think about how many snowflakes I must have cut with her in the hospital." She looks over at him, tucking her hair behind her ear. "That's why they put her in Big Sisters, so she'd have someone to support her, someone outside of the family to visit and talk to so she didn't have to feel like she was burdening her family with her fears."

He nods. What else can he do? He's not even sure he can compute what's going on. Here's this woman, a woman who works her ass off he knows, who takes on things that she probably shouldn't, who seems to have such a big heart, and she's been through so much.

"Anyway. Laura was the first straw."

He ponders for a moment, unsure. Does he want to ask?

"Rose said there was a robbery?"

She looks resigned almost, like she'd known the question was coming. And maybe she had. "Rose has a big mouth," she says quietly. "I don't know much. He wouldn't tell me. And he never went to get help. Wouldn't let me come to the hearings either."

Callen nods slowly. He's known her for a week and even he knows there's no way she'd have been content on the sidelines. "PTSD isn't pretty."

She hums and he wonders if she's aware of his job, about the PTSD that runs rampant in the people he can deal with. He's not sure he wants to enlighten her.

Plus, hadn't Sam once said 'always leave them wanting more'?

"Regardless. I'm sorry for pushing you yesterday."

Kensi's mouth tilts up a little and waves to her cupcake. "You're forgiven."

"Good."


	8. Chapter 8

**Tinsel**

Their job is to search for tinsel.

It's something Callen knows he'd normally find beyond annoying, but not this time. Because lucky for him, Kensi's been drafted as well.

It seems like she's drafted for a lot of things, and bless her heart, it doesn't seem to faze her much. He's tempted to ask, if he's honest, but given his latest stumble he's not entirely sure if she'll be all that receptive to the idea.

Thing is though, he wants to know. He wants to know more, and more, and more; always more. There are layers to the woman in the driver's seat that are more than intriguing. They're better than the most complicated case, the most frustrating mystery and all wrapped up in a package that could entice a saint.

Well, he doesn't care about enticing saints really. He's not entirely sure he wants her enticing anyone other than him, not that she'd have control over it. He's seen the protective instinct that so many seem to hang on to when it comes to her and she either doesn't seem to know about it or finds it a bit frustrating.

Independent to a fault. It shouldn't be so attractive.

It totally is.

They've picked up an abnormal amount of tinsel as it is. They've been going from dollar store to dollar store – "There's no reason to pick up something expensive and Nell won't know," she'd told him when he'd suggested half a dozen party stores – and they have a rather impressive collection in the back seat of Kensi's SUV. He's pretty sure Nell'll be pleased.

Thing is though, they have one more store and then they go about their separate ways. It's been a good day, there's no arguing that. They've laughed, poked fun, and he's actually seen her in borderline stitches over some of the crazier stories he has from his days undercover. Censored, of course, because some of the information is definitely still classified, but he's told her enough that she's been entertained.

It feels good.

Actually, it feels like nothing ever has before. He doesn't understand the draw of her and he's not entirely sure he ever will. He likes her guts, likes the way she responds to him because it's so obvious that he throws her off. The feeling's entirely mutual, so he's kind of glad for it.

And, fundamentally, he doesn't want their last store to be the end of their day. Especially since it ends up being an in-and-out affair. The other stores have been the same, sure, but they've also distracted each other with cheap little things. He's constantly surprised by the things one can buy at a dollar store and he's surprised to find out she likes the game too.

"It's something little and simple," she'd said, lifting a cheap white mug. "Like this. But you can do so much with it, you know? Fill it with chocolate or tea, for example. There's DIY instructions for colouring and decorating these with Sharpie, too."

"Sharpie?" He'd been surprised, logically so.

"The secret is baking it," she'd replied easily, putting the mug back down to wander further down the aisle. "I did them for the employees one year."

Her employees. Sure, so far he hasn't seen too many, but it's still above and beyond. He's learning that impulses like that, kind things, are just her style. Small, understated, personal. Her.

And, he _likes _Kensi. He likes her beyond the fact that she's drop dead gorgeous and completely enigmatic. He enjoys spending time with her. It's easy to spend time with her. She's content not to ask any questions, let alone questions he can't answer. It's a breath of fresh air, because it's so obvious she expects nothing from anyone that she can't get herself.

Simultaneously, he hates that she's so intensely secretive. He's spent enough time with her to know she's too smart to be running a store. She could do so much more. She could be running a chain, nailing criminals to the wall in court. Hell, he's pretty sure she could do his job and, though he will never, ever admit it out loud, there's a good chance she could do it just as well as him. And only a tiny piece of his ego dislikes the idea. He'd bet she'd be a wonderful and formidable partner.

Right now though, he's pretty concerned with how to extend his day with her.

But it's Kensi who takes the initiative, and suddenly the way she's been chewing her lip makes a little more sense.

"You like chocolate, Callen?"

"You buying?" he snarks, entirely out of habit.

She laughs. "Sure, since you kept me company all through this tinsel adventure."

Not that it had been a hardship but he gets the feeling that who's buying matters much less than his agreement. There's a secret smile in the corner of her mouth that makes his own lips twitch.

Maybe he's not the only one who wants to extend the day.

His car's at her shop anyway, so they agree to walk to the shop Kensi loves so much. They take it slow, his hand brushing against hers. He can see her blush, the pink rising in her cheeks and just before they turn that corner, he takes a risk, linking his pinky finger with hers.

And is handsomely rewarded when, with a slight adjustment of her wrist, all of her fingers tangle with his.

* * *

_I haven't forgotten about this story, I promise. I have been putting all of my effort into the 'real' Christmas story over in Criminal Minds and that's why this hasn't really been updated. This can be stretched, see. Christmas is kind of the background theme because the wedding and Callen/Kensi is way more in the forefront. _

_I do promise to finish this. CM is my priority, but I have not forgotten this, and I have every intention of finishing it. _

_Thanks for the patience, loves!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Champagne**

Kensi's been on the run all day.

It's not a surprise, really. As the maid of honour she's responsible for two events other than the general responsibility of Nell's sanity. The bridal shower is one of them. Personally, she hates the damn things. It seems like a ridiculous idea when added to the sheer number of gifts Nell and Eric will receive as part of the wedding itself and the stag and doe coming up. But Nell is traditional, almost to a fault, and maybe more than a little indulgent when it comes to all of this wedding business. The woman is completely unflappable when placed in front of a computer, but this wedding has turned her into a crazy person. It would probably be entertaining if Kensi hadn't been in charge of keeping Nell sane.

So, she sits beside the make-shift throne the bridesmaids had decorated – they were the fun brigade; Kensi's job is realism – pad of paper in hand. She's keeping track of all the gifts from friends and relatives. It's a boring job, but Kensi's also ninety present sure she's the only sober one in the room. Champagne is not her favourite.

"Amy!"

Kensi rolls her eyes as Nell, once again, opens lingerie. It's been a running theme peppered with some small pieces of jewelry and a handful of other odds and ends, probably unsuitable for wedding presents.

"What?" the blond returns innocently, giggling beside the other two of Nell's high school friends that round out the bridal party. They're all pissed too, Kensi knows, because they'd each been passed over for maid of honour. She's the newest to the whole Nell's friend thing, but she's also the closest.

"Come on Nell," Sophie, bridesmaid two, pushes. "Like you don't want to stop his heart when your dress comes off."

Kensi bites her lip rather hard. It's entirely possible both Nell and Eric will be either too exhausted or too drunk to, um, consummate their marriage on Christmas Eve, so the lingerie is likely a moot point.

"You guys know I can only wear one of these, right?" Nell points out with a drunk and vaguely embarrassed giggle.

"So, take the others on your honeymoon!"

Kensi bites her tongue now, adding Amy's gift to the sorted and organized piles. God, she cannot wait for the gifts part to be over. Luckily for her, it's not much longer and every one is scattering again. But when Kensi goes to stand, to move onto the next thing, Nell grasps her wrists and tugs her back to her seat.

"Hey, listen. I wanted to talk to you."

Kensi blinks. "Nell, I told you to stop fussing. I've got everything under control."

"No, not that."

Nell's eyes are glazed just a little, enough to know that some of her inhibitions are most definitely lowered. The hangover is going to be hell and Kensi is glad that won't be her responsibility. She does, however, make a mental note to warn Eric.

"It's Callen."

Kensi's eyebrow rises. It's intriguing to say the least, if only because Kensi doesn't know what she thinks or feels about Eric's coworker. She knows their chocolate yesterday had been fun and he'd certainly made what could have been a really annoying errand more amusing than irritating.

But that does not help her make a decision.

"Eric says you've been spending time together." There's the tiniest slur to her words and it's a little endearing. "Kens. Kens, that's good."

"Is it?" Kensi asks, choosing amusement over defensive irritation.

"Of course it is," Nell says. "You take care of everyone all the time. You are the strongest person I know and you don't hesitate to stand up and support the people you love. I mean, why do you think I picked you for maid of honour? Because I know you won't waver, I know I can rely on you, but Kens, you never take time for you."

Kensi blinks again.

"I mean, when was the last time you had sex? No, went on a date?"

Kensi bites her lip because in all honesty, it kind of depends on how Nell's defining 'date'. It's entirely possible that yesterday qualified.

Not that she plans on sharing that with Nell.

Except then Nell says, "Eric says Sam says Callen's been really busy lately and, well, Deeks says he's seen Callen a lot recently-"

Deeks had been gossiping? She made a mental note to have _another _talk with the man about the definition of 'private life'.

"Actually, he said something about a cupcake from a couple of days ago and he brought you chocolate from Rose's place? Because seriously, Kens, if he's aready learning those kinds of things and you've only known him a handful of days, and it's you-"

Kensi blows out a breath and it cuts Nell off. Even drunk Nell can tell when something's not right with Kensi.

"I don't know," Kensi admits.

Nell's eyes widen. Quite obviously it's not the answer the bride-to-be had anticipated.

"I… He's nice?" she says. "He's… attentive."

This time, Nell's eyebrow starts climbing towards her bangs and Kensi can feel herself blushing.

"We're… friends."

"That's it?" Nell asks, a pout already forming on her face.

"Nell-"

"Come on," the redhead whines. "He's attractive, available – and yes, I asked on your behalf – and obviously interested-"

"And I'm not stupid," Kensi argues. "He works with Eric and since," she lowers her voice, "you can't talk about Eric's job, I'm assuming it's all sorts of dangerous and classified. I've had enough of that from the men in my life without walking into it knowing what I'm getting into."

"You think I like Eric's radio silence? Or the fact that he cannot talk about his worst days even though I have security clearance? You can't help who you fall in love with, Kens. It doesn't work like that."

But she isn't in love, Kensi knows that much. There's definitely a draw, an increasingly irresistible tug towards the man, but Kensi has no intention of falling in love with him. Hell, she has no intentions towards him at all.

It doesn't seem to make a difference to Nell though, who waves off whatever statement Kensi had opened her mouth to say.

"Look, I actually didn't mean to get heavy, but I wish you'd let loose and have some fun, at least leading up to the wedding. Afterwards, you can totally go back to being just boring Kensi, but live a little. For me?"

But Kensi holds her ground. "I am having fun. God, Nell, I just met him."

"And already kissed him. Beth told me."

Kensi groans.

* * *

_Back to back! God, I've forgotten how much I do love this little world. Actually, it explains why I want to get the 'real' Christmas story done and over with because it's so much fun to play over here. Between you guys and me? Sometimes the other story can feel like a bit of a chore. But this always feels fresh and new and to a huge degree mine and how can I resist that? So many more puzzles over here that I'm absolutely loving. _

_So… you guys get lucky? It'll be a bit before I update the next one (I do want to get a couple of chapters of the CM one written up first so I have a backlog) but know the next one's handwritten. Hopefully I can post it by Monday, allowing for the leeway of a busy weekend. _

_Loves!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Glitter**

Nell is going to die.

Slowly, painfully and without regret.

And then Kensi's going to spread glitter all over her corpse, her coffin and her grave. Seems like a fitting response since Kensi feels like she's drowning in the stuff.

"My wedding, assuming I get to that point, will not have glitter," she grumbles without thinking.

Callen chuckles, then bites his lip when she shoots him a glare.

"I'm with her," Eric moans.

"This is your wedding," Sam points out. "Nell didn't strike me as the glitter type."

"Me either," Eric laments. "Who thought this up anyway?"

'This' is the tiny little stocking he holds up. It has enough room for a place card, basically. It's another one of Nell's Christmas ideas, informing each guest of their table by a card in each of the damn things. They've been using glitter to decorate them with each guest's name all morning and there's evidence of it everywhere. Kensi is seriously rethinking using her day off for this, especially since Nell and the bridesmaids have the excuse of work to get them out of it. She's pretty sure all the agents around the table are cursing their time off as well.

"Sophisticated and elegant," Sam says, setting another bloody stocking aside to dry. "That's a wedding."

Kensi sees the surprised look Callen shoots him out of the corner of her eye and is actually not as shocked as she should be that these feds have talked weddings.

"Got your girl picked out too?"

She's not sure she'd even considered that the large black man could blush, nor that Callen's eyebrow could rise that high.

"Since when?" Callen asks.

"What?" Eric jumps in. "Wait, what?"

Sam shrugs.

"You have a girl," Callen says, abandoning his stockings in favour of interrogating Sam.

"Woman," Sam counters with a smirk. "Definitely a woman."

"Who?" Callen pushes. "Where did you meet?"

"None of your business," Sam counters.

"Is that a coffee shop or a restaurant, I can never keep track." But then, rather abruptly, Callen changes his strategy. "Come on. You're always on my case about finding someone to settle down with and now you're going to keep all of the secrets of the universe?"

She's not sure what possesses her – Sam's not her friend, she barely knows the man – but then her mouth is opening and out comes, "Destination wedding."

All of the men turn to look at her, but it's the curiosity and awareness in Callen's gaze that makes her heart hitch. The way he clings to every personal word she says makes her feel both nervous and guilty. She's not a 'sharer' by nature.

She forces a shrug. "I've always wanted to go to Mexico or the Dominican. Maybe Costa Rica. And it limits the number of people you can have, so the invitations don't get out of hand."

"Do you not take time off?" Callen inquires with a little laugh and it takes Kensi a minute to realize he's asking why she hasn't just gone to those places herself.

She shrugs again. "Not really. The place doesn't run itself."

"Everyone needs a vacation." Sam says kindly. "Business owners take vacations all the time."

She just offers him a smile.

"I didn't know you'd thought of your wedding, Kens," Eric says. "Think you can tell Nell? She's been going on and on about how you work so long and never date. Maybe knowing you've thought about getting married will get her to let up a bit."

Kensi curses Eric's usual obliviousness. The quasi-secrets he'd just spilled to his team are not things she's particularly proud of. After Jack and her dad she's thrown herself into the shop, into stability and consistency and things she could control. People leave, barring the minimal exceptions like Nell or Rose or Deeks. So it's easier to just not involve herself in any of it.

And then she catches Callen's eyes, the intrigue and interest in them, and thinks that maybe she's spent the last week breaking her own rules.

For some strange reason, that's not as terrifying as it should be.

* * *

_Look at the present! Not a long one but I kind of surprised myself with how much writing I've managed to get done in the last week, not just for this one but for at least two other stories too. And the other AU I'm hoping to write once this one's done (different universe, again. I'm excited) has been kind of floating around in the back of my head solidifying. _

_SO MUCH WRITING. _

_Happy Kavis write more too, I'm finding. Which is not a plea for reviews, just a statement of fact. _

_But, you know, if you wanted to review, that would make me happy too._

_PS: Quick friendly PSA. If you choose not to sign in or don't have an account (your prerogative, promise) I will not be able to respond to any questions or issues you may raise in your review. If you do actually want an answer to the question or whatever, do leave some sort of contact? I try my best to be good with answering reviews. _


	11. Chapter 11

**Presents**

He sees it on her desk when he invades her office the next morning.

It's a little thing, tiny, not even a quarter of the envelope it sits on. The return address says 'Owen Granger' and for some reason that puts his back up.

Okay, that's a lie. He totally knows the reason. And the reason is striding through the door looking both exasperated and amused. He has that effect on people.

Thing is though, she stops dead when she sees the card and box. Her hand actually shakes as she reaches out for it and he hands it over without argument.

"Sorry," he says and he knows from her tiny nod that she knows what it's for. He doesn't actually want to invade her privacy, he's just curious. He thinks maybe she's used to that now. And to his credit, he'd done no more than look.

"Come on," she says instead, even going as far as to step back a little. "Let's go."

She's out the door before he can ask what the card's about and he's left kind of standing there like an idiot. It's Deeks that comes in a few seconds behind her, apparently to drop his cash box in the safe. He arches an eyebrow.

"Not mine," Callen finds himself saying. He's not fully conscious as to what's going on beyond Kensi. "Hers."

He does, however, manage to catch the knowledge that passes over Deeks' face. "Owen."

Like that does anything for his curiosity.

He hadn't come by for any particular reason either. He'd just woken up and kind of… come. He hadn't even been entirely sure where he'd been planning to go until he'd turned the corner and seen the sign. He'd feel pathetic if she wasn't so damn intriguing. But now, now there's a mystery to be solved, a mystery that involves Kensi.

He's not stupid enough to pass up the opportunity.

He finds her leaning against the windows of the shop, coat still on, hands in her pockets. She barely glances at him before she starts walking. He follows, of course he does, and he has the sneaking suspicion she'd been waiting for him. Yeah, she knows his curiosity by now, but he also hopes that she knows he'll respect her privacy. Well, as best he can, anyway.

They walk for a while. It's a distance anyway, until they get to the beach. Actually, he hadn't realized she's this close, her shop is this close. It must show on her face because she offers him a smile.

"Deeks really likes the beach," she says. "He says it's the only reason he even considered getting a job at my place."

Callen doubts that. He really, really does.

She actually takes her shoes off before she steps onto the sand. He finds it adorable, really, but doesn't follow suit. He's always disliked the sand in his toes when he's not actually surfing. Her shoes swing in her hand and her other one slides out of her pocket too to keep her balance in the shifting shore. And they keep walking.

"The shop was my dad's," she says suddenly, eventually, like the quiet is pressing in on her shoulders. "When he joined up, it kind of became my mom's. Then she left and it was just me and my dad, running this little shop as best we could."

Callen takes her hand. He doesn't know why, he doesn't even realize he's doing it, but he does and she turns to face him. She doesn't meet his eyes though, keeps her head down, sinking her bare toes into the sand even though it's LA's version of freezing. There's a part of him that wants to stop the story now, to reassure her that if she doesn't want to talk about it, he's not going to make her, but the words never leave his mouth.

"He was killed in action when I was fifteen," she says quietly. "Did I have dreams, yeah of course I did. I was going to do all sorts of things. But then my dad died and my mom was gone and the only person I had left was Owen. And I couldn't- I was too young. Dad left me the shop, but I was _fifteen_. Owen had to run it. Owen had to pick up the pieces and keep moving on, keep pushing forward. It's just what he does. And it was what I needed."

She huffs out a breath but he does not let go of her hand. He's not really sure he could.

"When I was old enough he handed over the store. I've graduated, Callen. I've gone to college, taken business, did what I had to do to keep myself floating. But Owen- Owen lost it a few years back. Said he was seeing my dad. I asked him, begged him, to go talk to someone and… we broke. I haven't seen him in almost fifteen years. But every year he sends a card to the shop for me, sometimes with money. I send the money back with his favourite chocolate because he's the only family I have left.

"Did he leave? Yeah, he did, but it doesn't matter. Because he's my family and that-"

Callen squeezes her hand. He gets that, as best he can considering he has no family to speak of. The closest thing is Sam and Eric and Hetty and they're all coworkers. But he knows, without a shadow of a doubt that there is absolutely nothing he wouldn't do for Sam, Eric or Hetty.

"But it doesn't help," he says and now it's his turn to look out over the waves. "It doesn't bring him back. It doesn't make it better."

There's a shocking amount of understanding in her eyes when he brings his back again and he's struck very suddenly with the thought that while he's learning about Kensi, maybe he's not being so careful about what he's letting her learn either.

"No," she agrees and steps into his body. She's turned though, so it's her shoulder that rests against his, but it's the closest they've been since their kiss ten days ago. "Nothing makes it better."

Except, he thinks, maybe this.

* * *

_And there's a little more backstory! I do hope it works with the head canons that go with this particular universe. Because I keep kind of floating back and forth between Granger actually wanting to push Kensi and look out for her and him just generally hating the whole damn team. Who knows? Maybe I'll play off of the show's use of Callen's anger against Granger and have the two men have a nice little chat about Kens. _

_Who knows?!_

_Meanwhile, hope that was satisfactory and thanks, as always, for all of your kind words and reviews. I'm so glad you guys are liking this universe. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Cider**

He's not supposed to be on duty.

Actually though. They've banked time for this kind of thing, worked day in and day out on some of the roughest cases of his career and Hetty had okay-ed the time off without blinking. She loves them all, of course, but Callen knows it's also because they've been through a lot. A month doesn't seem like too much to ask, especially considering the season.

But in their world, it's also not that simple.

Sometimes the bad guys don't understand that it's kosher to use your co-worker's wedding to woo the maid of honour.

And who the hell says 'woo' anymore?

Callen shakes his head, even as he eyes himself in the mirror. It's a short thing, he hopes, just a little bit of recon. A couple of days on a case that's been cold for over a year. SecNav doesn't care of course, she never does, and in some ways he gets it. In OSP they deal with the special of special cases. They're classified beyond classified and often require liaising with more than just the LAPD. He's had CIA cases, DEA, FBI, special task force and joint task force cases.

He's not totally sure what this is. Well, he knows the parameters, he guesses. Arms dealer, probably American, responsible for providing weapons to rebels in most of the major conflicts across the pond. The latest is the Ukraine, where even Callen knows tensions are bubbling a little to close to the surface. The last thing they need is an idiot trying to push the former Soviet territory into another Yugoslavia.

Which means he has to be sneaky and careful in his choice of contact today. It's not even about security clearance or telling Kensi a damn thing about who he is and what he does and more about making sure he doesn't leave this crap on her doorstep. It's actually the very last thing he wants to do. He's already poisoned enough people and Kensi's already gone through enough pain and heartbreak.

But he wants to do something. He's seen her eleven days straight and the last thing he wants is to have her worried that yesterday's confession had pushed him away. Because it's entirely possible it's done the exact opposite. He knows what it's like, being an orphan. He doesn't have first hand understanding of her grief, for sure, but he knows what it's like to build a family from nothing, from pieces. He gets the way it feels like a lifeline, something to cling to in the chaos of life. He understands her.

There will be no illusions of abandonment. Not if he can help it.

Thing is, he doesn't know what to do.

It takes him much longer than he'd have liked to come up with it and, of course, it hits at the worst possible moment. He's actually made contact, conversing with their suspect when it hits him. It throws him off more than he'd like. He can actually feel the way his fingers are twitching.

And he takes a risk he's not sure he ever would before her.

He slips out after catching Sam's eyes, a bathroom break, he says. His partner looks confused when they exchange looks, even concerned, but doesn't do anything to stop him. Callen trusts Sam to keep an eye on their guy, to make sure he doesn't escape. And the bug Callen had planted earlier in the lunch should give them some interesting things now that the new guy isn't there.

Meanwhile, Callen dials Eric. "I need Nell."

"What?"

Callen rolls his eyes and refuses to growl, just barely. He's losing precious time even having this conversation. "Nell. I need to talk to her."

"Uh-"

"Give me a phone number or patch me through Eric. Now."

There's a scramble, then the sound of the phone ringing.

"Nell Jones."

"Nell, it's Callen. Eric's-"

"Groomsman. Is he okay?"

She sounds stoic and he flinches. "This isn't about Eric, he's fine. It's about Kensi. I need you to do something for me."

. . . . .

He tumbles into his crappy makeshift apartment hours later, exhausted but exhilarated. They've made strides today, more strides than Callen had expected, even with his little dalliance. It happens, he thinks, when the damn guys get too cocky for their own good. He's sure now that this won't take much longer.

He checks his e-mail first, like he always does for any new intel now that he's not 'in character'. But it's not an information packet that greets him. Instead, Eric's e-mail is prefaced with the subject 'Thought You Should See'.

_For the record,_ the message reads, _this was Nell's idea. I think Hetty's thinking of replacing me._

Attached is a video and he almost chokes when it's Kensi's office that comes into view when he hits play. He hadn't even thought about security cameras, but there's certainly a part of him thankful she has them. Now for reasons beyond simple security.

The woman in question enters not moments later, stopping in the doorway. She's beautiful, he thinks. There's a hot milk stain on her black blouse and her hair's pulled back haphazardly – a sure sign she's just put in a shift behind the counter – but he doesn't care. She's still gorgeous. She's still Kensi.

She's stopped dead, he realizes, because there's something on her desk. Nell had gone above and beyond what he'd asked of her. She's chosen instant packages rather than the piping hot cider he'd requested and included a beautiful blue mug to go with it. He watches Kensi slide around the desk, fingers gentle and hesitant as they slide over the handle of her new mug, but it's the look on her face that has his heart beating double-time in his chest.

She looks surprised and vulnerable, reverent almost and the smile on her face is affectionate and soft. Her fingers slide over the little packets of mix before she lifts the cup to read the note obviously tucked beneath. That softness doesn't leave her face and instead, he gets to watch her eyes glaze over, zoned out and even daydreaming as her fingers play with the edges of the note.

He hits pause and reaches for his phone.

_Nell went above and beyond. Give her my thanks,_ he types out quickly. It's a secure phone, meant for NCIS business. He doesn't think much of it.

_It's Nell and it's Kensi. It's a thing._

Callen smiles to himself as he looks at the paused picture of Kensi's gentle smile.

A thing indeed.

* * *

_I think I'm in love with this universe. That isn't supposed to happen._

_Thanks to each of you who has left your thoughts. There aren't words for how it feels to have people fall in love with the changes in these characters as I do. It means the world. _


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